


share me that glimpse of love

by basketofnovas (slashmarks)



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Mating Flight (Dragonriders of Pern), Pregnant Sex, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:00:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25481305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashmarks/pseuds/basketofnovas
Summary: F'lar isn't called back in time for Ramoth's first mating flight, and Orth flies Ramoth instead. Kylara is happy to help her weyrmate with Lessa. Written for equalityauction 2020.
Relationships: F'lar | Fallarnon/Lessa, Kylara/Lessa (Dragonriders of Pern), Kylara/T'bor (Dragonriders of Pern), T'bor/Kylara/Lessa
Comments: 9
Kudos: 24





	share me that glimpse of love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [calenlily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calenlily/gifts).



> I hope my recipient enjoys this - it was a really fun AU to write! Canon notes at the end. Title is of course from canon, "Dragonman, dragonman,/Between thee and thine,/Share me that glimpse of love/Greater than mine."
> 
> *
> 
> _She glided down, tantalizing them, amused at their now labored flights. Hath she couldn’t bear. Orth? Now Orth was a fine young beast. She dropped her wings to slide between him and Mnementh..._
> 
> _He set his teeth, wishing, as he had a hundred times since Ramoth rose in her first mating flight, that Lessa had not been virgin, too. He had not thought to control his dragon-incited emotions, and Lessa’s first sexual experience had been violent._

Kylara was one of the last of the weyrfolk to reach the circle of bronze riders around Lessa. She had struggled up as soon as the commotion started, but she hadn't realized exactly what it was at first, and in the late stages of pregnancy she couldn't move as quickly as she was accustomed. By the time she reached the section of the bowl nearest the Feeding Grounds, the participants in the mating flight were all long gone from reality, and the first of the unsuccessful bronze riders was staggering off as his dragon landed. 

She knew the basic procedure from the greens' flights, and she had stood in a time or two for riders who preferred women, but those flights had been unimportant: the weyr equivalent of a quick tumble in a back corridor or a haystack, blowing off steam. _This_ flight would determine the future of Benden Weyr - and for those who believed in imminent Threadfall, the fate of Pern. Kylara was agnostic on that subject herself, although it would be nice if the life she had already grown used to was allowed to continue.

Someone gave her a seat - they were polite to pregnant women in the Weyr - and she sat gratefully, dragging it around for a better vantage point. Lessa was so small, Kylara marveled. She hadn't had a chance to _see_ Benden's new Weyrwoman since Impression and she'd been rather distracted at the time. The last of Ruatha's Blood, taken away to the Weyr and shut up in the Weyrwoman's apartments more thoroughly than even Kylara had been confined as a teenager awaiting a marriage that had never happened. 

Kylara craned to see her around T'bor and R'gul's backs. She had a black braid, nowhere near as long or thick as Kylara's but falling respectably enough down her back. She was dressed in green, which Kylara decided flattered her complexion well. Her eyes were shut hard, so that Kylara couldn't get a look at their color, and her face strained with her dragon.

A bronze erupted into the air above the Weyr, and whispers picked up again. Kylara tried to pick out who was missing, and who had staggered off already, but before she worked it out the rider had come into view: F'lar, white lipped and sliding off Mnementh. Kylara fought the urge to laugh. He was arrogant, F'lar was, and he had a tendency to talk as though he _deserved_ to be Weyrleader. It served him right if he hadn't been present when Ramoth rose.

More of the bronzes were spiraling off as the flight wore on, higher and higher. Kylara wondered if Mnementh would be able to catch up to join it, but before he had much of a chance to try Lessa let out an audible gasp, going rigidly onto her toes; and she practically fell into T'bor's arms.

T'bor - Kylara snorted - staggered; he was slightly built himself, it was something Kylara liked about him, but he would have needed his wits about him to balance even a woman as small as Lessa in his arms. She realized she was standing as she did it, and thought, well, why not? She was T'bor's weyrmate, even if she'd moved to the Lower Caverns when her pregnancy grew advanced enough she wanted to have female help about her without needing a dragon ride to accomplish it. There was no reason she shouldn't help, she thought, and strode carefully towards them. 

T'bor roused a little as she reached them. Kylara said, "Let me help with her--" and took Lessa's other arm and he nodded, relief in his face as his eyes grew distant again. They must have made a comical sight, her heavily pregnant and the two of them staggering up the stairs to the Weyrwoman's apartment, Lessa shuddering and gasping with Ramoth and T'bor only aware enough to manage his own feet, barely; but they made it in the end.

Kylara might have retreated once Lessa was deposited into her sleeping furs. No one had ever mentioned the idea of a woman standing in for a queen rider, and she wasn't sure the Weyr would take _that_ better than they would have at Telgar. But the stairs had been bad enough the first time, and she lingered for a moment, turning back to look at her weyrmate with Lessa. T'bor had wasted no time in getting Lessa's tunics off, Kylara smirked to see; and underneath the loose clothing, Lessa was no child.

T'bor touched Lessa's breast, and her eyes cleared for a moment, and she screamed.

Kylara jumped. T'bor's face cleared, too, that had apparently been enough to jar him, but Kylara saw naked confusion on his face. Lessa looked near hysterics, and she was raising her arms not to cling to T'bor but to push him away. Oh, for the love of little Shells, Kylara thought, and swung around with difficulty to join them on the furs. Did she have to do _everything_ for T'bor?

"Lessa," she said. Lessa's head turned; her gaze locked with Kylara's with a mix of dragon-roused passion and fear and relief, and her hand came up, not shoving her but grabbing her hand in turn, clinging.

"Don't lose her," T'bor said; for a moment Kylara wasn't sure who he was addressing, but then he went on, "Stay with her - if she feels your fear she may go _between_ \--"

"You're terrifying her more, that won't help," Kylara said, still confused. None of the mating flights she'd seen had ended like this.

Had Lessa ever _seen_ a mating flight? Kylara's earlier thoughts circled around: Lessa, last of the Ruathan Bloodline, who had spent ten years in hiding. Oh, Shards. Kylara had heard rumors she had masqueraded as a drudge; whether it was true or not she'd also heard things about how women were treated in Fax's holds. Of course Lessa was terrified of sex.

"Think of Ramoth," Kylara told her, interposing herself between T'bor and Lessa, in no small part because Lessa was eyeing him again like she felt he was too close and was about to take action. "Where is she?"

Lessa went, thankfully, unfocused again. She whispered something Kylara didn't understand, but it didn't matter because her body was softening, her head tilting back. She hadn't flinched from Kylara, so Kylara moved up on her side ponderously and took Lessa's chin in her hand to kiss her. 

"Come here, T'bor," she said, insinuating her hand between Lessa's legs and not looking at him. "You can touch me, and I'll touch her. Everyone will be happy."

"You _do_ have good ideas, sometimes," T'bor said, his breath hot on the back of her neck.

Kylara had heard that the riders of female dragons were more affected by thrall but had little ability to test it. Lessa barely seemed aware of her or T'bor after that first moment of panic; she moaned on the bed and twisted, writhing into Kylara's touch. Under the circumstances Kylara decided that was a blessing and bent to her neck to kiss it, stroking Lessa's vulva with two fingers, petting the outside and inside of her lips, letting her get used to the touch. 

Lessa did not panic again; she pressed into Kylara's fingers and eventually her body, fingers twisting in the furs. T'bor kissed Kylara's back and hair from behind, arms locked around her chest over her swollen stomach, entering her with a rhythm already so erratic that Kylara doubted he would last. He was in tune with Lessa, in rhythm with her, for all she hadn't let him touch her; their sighs and shivers and thrusts came in time, bringing Kylara half into thrall with them herself, responsive to the dragons she couldn't see or hear.

Kylara kissed Lessa's mouth, put her fingers over her delicate, fine-boned hands. She'd have time to enjoy them properly, she vowed; time to teach Lessa how this was supposed to go, time when Lessa was _aware_ of her and not only Ramoth and Orth. For all it was T'bor's cock inside her her thoughts were all of Lessa under her, Lessa's face straining in the half-lit Weyr, Lessa's dark hair intermixed with Kylara's light, until Lessa and T'bor cried out together - in unison with their dragons and each other, with Kylara only half hooked in. Nevertheless as Lessa shuddered and bucked her hips, Kylara cried out with them, shaking and shivering her way to orgasm; the joint force of their arousal was too much for her to resist.

Lessa and T'bor were exhausted by their dragons, and Kylara was swiftly left the only one awake, sitting against the wall and stroking Lessa's fine, thick black hair over her lap. So Lessa of Ruatha had been a virgin, at least to one kind of sex. Kylara took a sort of pleasure in that knowledge: all the bronze riders in the Weyr competing for that prize and Kylara'd had it! Of course the real prize was Ramoth and _she_ belonged to Orth. 

T'bor was a decent wingleader from all Kylara had heard - she wouldn't have settled for any permanent partner who didn't have the respect of the Weyr - but he was indecisive, wishy washy. He would need advice and Kylara intended to be in a position to give it. 

If Lessa had been able to manage Fax's Warder - a feat Kylara suspected no weyrbred dragonrider could appreciate the way _she_ did - she must have a head for scheming that had not been displayed in this ridiculous farce with R'gul. They'd collaborate, then. Struck with sudden fondness Kylara pulled Lessa up into her lap to kiss her forehead, unable to lean down as she was. Lessa mumbled in her sleep and nuzzled her face into Kylara's shoulder. 

She was so _small_ , Kylara thought, and grinned against her hair. The Weyrwoman's quarters had actual stairs, presumably to accommodate those months when their occupant's dragon refused to leave the Hatching Grounds; this would do very well for her, too, late in pregnancy or not.

Kylara came awake suddenly, early in the morning. She had become accustomed to this as the discomforts of pregnancy advanced. She seemed to have fallen asleep sitting up against the rock wall of the weyr; for a moment she was confused by the tangle of two bodies with her, until Lessa turned and her hair slithered across Kylara's lap, and she realized where and when she was.

Footsteps came again in the stairs and she realized what had woken her. F'lar called a soft good morning from the hall.

"Just a moment," Kylara called back, and disentangled herself carefully. Lessa did not cling to T'bor in her absence but curled in a ball in the furs. Kylara grinned to herself again; she'd have no trouble maintaining her position if _Lessa_ preferred her to T'bor, now would she?

F'lar looked slightly taken aback when she emerged, dress thrown on, hair still a wild stream down to its hem. "They're still sleeping," Kylara said, and put a finger to her lip, moving off to the living chamber. 

"You spent the night?" F'lar asked. The surprise on his face had faded back to a dejected misery that surprised her and amused her both; the man really had thought himself _entitled_.

"I don't think our esteemed Weyrwoman likes men much," Kylara said: it would be either a jab to his self esteem or a sop, depending on his outlook. He frowned at her, disbelieving, and she added, "She screamed when T'bor touched her. Do you hear much in the Weyr about what Fax had done to women in his Holds? I don't blame her, but it might have turned the mating flight into a disaster."

"It might have," F'lar reluctantly allowed, trailing her to the eating nook and sitting. 

"What brings you here so early, then?"

"I'm here to speak to _Lessa_ ," F'lar said, stressing the name. 

Yesterday that would have made Kylara jealous, or at least indignant. Now she felt only a bright pleasure that she had what F'lar - what every bronze rider in Benden - wanted. "Then you'll have to wait for her to wake up. You can help me sort out my hair in the meantime," she ordered him. He'd liked her hair when she bedded him. Most men did.

F'lar sighed and complied.

Lessa roused when he was halfway through the task; Kylara heard footsteps in the sleeping quarters, far softer than T'bor's. She rounded the hall with her green tunics pressed to her chest, undressed still as though she was fleeing; then she stopped, seeing them, and for a moment her face was perfectly blank.

"F'lar comes to talk to you, Weyrwoman Lessa," Kylara said, formally; they had never really been _introduced_. "I commandeered him so he didn't interrupt your sleep."

"He has a habit of interrupting," Lessa said, eyebrows snapping caustically together. She looked at Kylara then, uncertainly; Kylara had the sudden intuition that Lessa might not be sure who she actually was.

"Kylara, Weyrwoman," she said. "T'bor's weyrmate." She touched her stomach. "I don't know if you recall..."

"Some," Lessa said. Virginal she might have been, she didn't blush; but something in the way her posture changed suggested to Kylara that she had suddenly remembered why Kylara was in her quarters. "F'lar, why are you here?"

F'lar's chin rose; he set aside the comb he had been attacking Kylara's hair with. He looked at Lessa like she was - Kylara couldn't even think of what to end the sentence with. Salvation from Threadfall, maybe. Had it been love for her that the mating flight had foiled, not only ambition?

"I wanted to speak to you about - plans for Threadfall," F'lar said, carefully. "And the Weyrleader..."

"The Weyrleader is sleeping," Lessa said, and then her own shoulders came back. "You can speak with me, just as soon as I'm done bathing." She started to turn; then she said, "Kylara? Would you help with my hair?"

Kylara rose with effort, and did not resist the impulse to flash a triumphant look at F'lar over her shoulder before she joined the Weyrwoman.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently Kylara POV is my thing in this fandom now.
> 
> I reread the mating flight scene in _Dragonflight_ a few times reading this as well as the aftermath, and Lessa definitely seems to panic when she wakes up mid-flight - something I don't think we see riders do in other mating flight scenes. T'bor in this book is considerably less confident than F'lar, eg. when Lessa is prevented from reinforcing him in the council argument with R'gul, whereas we all know Kylara does exactly what she wants. ("Slender" is the only physical description we get of him, btw.)
> 
> I came up with this idea and realized during my canon review that Kylara gives birth not much time later in the new year timeskip; the mating flight happens two months after the Ruathan tithing train arrives, and has to be late fall, so there's not a ton of time between them.
> 
> I like to think that after this F'lar, Lessa and Kylara work out some kind of understanding allowing everyone their share of political shenanigans. Certainly having to persuade Lessa to go along with his ideas might make F'lar more tactful in _Dragonflight_ era.


End file.
